


Denis

by odiko_ptino



Series: Modern AU [28]
Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Drunken parties, Gen, M/M, don't worry nothing happens but smooches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 18:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17027667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odiko_ptino/pseuds/odiko_ptino
Summary: Dionysus coaches Icarus through his first drunken college party.





	Denis

Dionysus meets Icarus for the “first” time, some months after the sun gods have elbowed their way into the mortal’s life.  Dionysus has just enough good sense and self-preservation to keep to himself, the fact that he’s actually met Icarus a handful of times previously, and even got a hug out of one encounter.

The true first time was uneventful, and not in person – as the benefactor god who provided humanity with the gift of alcohol, Dionysus is metaphysically present whenever a mortal has his or her first drink.  In Canada, there’s a law set that dictates nodrinks will be drunk until the age of 18; he sees a lot of mortals for thefirst time around that age.  But like so many other teenagers through the years, Icarus is lawlessly inducted into Dionysus’ realm before then – at the age of 16, with his older sisters Ilene and Alessa to guide him.

It’s not Dionysus’ preferred gig: he enjoys the wild chaos of a group of friends encouraging the new initiate into doing something stupid and embarrassing.  Something that will make a fond, sheepish memory years down the road.  There’s an element of danger to this approach, yes; but Dionysus has always believed that life is full of risks worth taking.  Most of his cults were centered around of concept of mystery, danger, and madness.  

And yet, especially in later years when he’s had less to prove, he supports even those who only cautiously dip a toe into hisrealm.  His gift was to all of humanity; not just the reckless and fearless souls like Dionysus himself!  So he metaphysically watches, in amusement, as Icarus chokes down a cheap beer provided by Ilene’s boyfriend (the designated driver), and some light acoustic rock plays on the car radio.  

He doesn’t really remember it for a while.  It’s difficult to hold onto the details of something presided over metaphysically – the gods aren’t so much actively participating as they are lending their presence and support to a situation.  They  _can_  remember everything, of course, but the details of a metaphysical event are tougher to hold onto and take a while to retrieve.  Plus, as previously explained, Icarus’ first alcoholic beverage drinking was dull by Dionysus’ standards.  

So he doesn’t immediately realize it’s Icarus he approaches, in person, at a party in a university a few years later.  About a year and a half before he“officially” meets the mortal.  Icarus is a freshman at this point, without a lot of friends yet – this is an informal party, held by the university’s LGBT club at one of the houses a few of them rent together.  Icarus is clutching a beer anxiously and looking as though he wished he never came.

Enter Dionysus – or rather, ‘Denis,’ (though, given his androgynous good looks and effeminate behaviors, he’s been routinely called‘Denise,’ which pleases him as well).  Dionysus and Apollo, and the Muses, the Graces, and his disguised Satyrs, all tend to do the rounds at random university parties across the globe, inspiring a festive spirit and good music.  Dionysus has elected to attend this particular celebration solo and in person, wanting to enjoy a party thrown with open pride by members of his other favorite community.

He’s started the evening dressed a little more wildly – lots of glitter, lots of skintight clothes, makeup that probably tips the balance between “sexy” and “trashy.”  Just the way he likes it.  And he’s having a blast, flirting and drinking and singing and dancing and collecting phone numbers he might follow up on.

After a while, he notices poor Icarus in his corner, watching the noisier partiersunhappily.  A shy one, not very experienced at drinking, looking paralyzed by all the rowdy noise and vice.  Bless his heart, he’s wearing a nice button-down shirt tucked into clean slacks, like he was going to a job interview or maybe to take his grandmother to church.  Whatever party he was imagining, he is definitely at the wrong one.  There are certainly more sedate and sober LGBT-themed gatherings that will happen in his university, but this is not one of them. Whoever brought him here seems to have deserted him, and the house is remote enough that it wouldn’t be easy to walk back home.  Most of the attendees are planning to passout in various corners around the property anyway.

Poor kid, whoever he is. Well, Denis/Denise might be here for a good time, but Dionysus is on the job – he’s here to ensure that a good time is had by all, and that the good word of his gift to humanity reaches all ears. Or all – brains, or bloodstreams, or whatever gets affected first.

So he hops down off the table where he was dancing, turning to kiss the guy he was flirting with, and discreetly steps out of the way to change his appearance.  He’s still physically the same person, but presented far more blandly, which will hopefully be less intimidating: jeans (though he takes a moment to ensure they make his ass look good), and a plain purple T-shirt with a small pattern of grape leaves on the hems.  He leaves his piercings in and his mascara on, though – may as well give the kid a tiny bad-boy thrill, right?

He ignores the beers sitting in tubs of ice around theplace, and creates a couple of cans of an alcohol that these college kids certainly couldn’t afford.  It’s sweet and mild-tasting, but fairly potent.

“You’re drinking that cheap crap?  Gross!” Dionysus, who has never met an alcohol he doesn’t like, greets Icarus.

Icarus blinks at him. “What?!” he asks loudly.  Yeah, this party is pretty lit.  

Dionysus leans over and raises his voice.  “They got a patio out back, you know?  It’s quieter there!”

“Oh…?”  Icarus looks like he still might not have heard him, but is nodding anyway.  What a little dork.  He is absolutely out of place in this party.

Dionysus smiles winningly at him and lightly places a hand on Icarus’ back, steering him towards the patio, and Icarus finally gets the idea.

The physical contact is enough to jog Dionysus’ memory, reminding him who Icarus, in fact, is: that kid from a few years ago, drinking a weak beer with his sisters.  A nerd; a square.  Cute kid but shy as fuck.  

Dionysus feels a renewed sense of purpose: he’ll make sure this Icarus kid enjoys his drinks, enjoys the party, and maybe even blushes prettily for Dionysus.

Outside is quieter by a great deal.  The semirural setting is rather pretty, though the property is a little worn-down. There’s a pond that looks like it hasn’t had any maintenance or cleaning done to it in years; a nice stand of pine trees off the side of the patio(l (auspicious!); a ramshackle barn/shed. Most of the partygoers who wandered outside have gone to the square of pavement in front of the barn/shed and are noisily playing some kind of game there.  Dionysus sets a handful of wards in place, in case anyone should wander over; mental suggestions that trigger upon approach to the patio, that the patio is no fun and they should go back tothe barn or inside the house.

“Whew!  So noisy in there I can barely think!” Dionysus complains, mostly for Icarus’ benefit.  

Icarus does a cute, nervous-sounding laugh.  “Y-yeah. I uh, I never understood how anyone can have any fun if they can’t even hear what’s going on!”

 _Ah, Icarus, Icarus.  You can hear everything you needto hear.  The pulse of the music – the bass thumping.  Sound so loud it buzzes your bones.  The dizzy, thrilling whirl of colors and motion, unlimited by sober analysis.  Feeling the wild call of madness, and daring to dance close enough to touch it, not at all sure you’ll come back – or if you even want to.  All the rules and restrictions of daily life are gone.  You can ignore hierarchy; you can ignore the roles you have to fill in society and just be.  Speech is of no use here; only chaos, and little of it will remain in your memory._   Dionysus loves it.

But, baby steps, for some people.  Dionysus sinks into an ancient plastic lawnchair, which creaks alarmingly but holds his weight.  “Yeah, I hear ya.  It’s not much good for socializing, isit?  Name’s Denis, by the way.”  

He offers Icarus the can. Icarus takes it and inspects it curiously: the can’s name says “KaleStigmes,” which is an improvisation from Dionysus.  It’s not actually a drink that exists for most mortals – he serves it at his own parties. Silenus was the one who came up with it, because as he said, ‘all that other shit’s good for a party, but sometimes an old satyr wants something sweet to sip before bed.’  Dionysus’ retinue only refers to it as Silenus’ Nightcap. It tends to taste like a light memory of your favorite dessert, but potent enough to – well, to put Silenus to sleep after a few.  Icarus is getting the cans, though, not the jugs Silenus prefers.

“I guess it makes me a snob, but I like this stuff better.  Nicer to just sit around and sip.”

Icarus perks up a little, taking the chair next to Dionysusand opening the can.  “Thanks!  I’m Icarus, uh – nice to meet you!”  He actually offers his hand to shake.  Dionysus feels his heart melt a little and shakes the kid’s hand.

“Pleasure to meet you, darling,” he says with a wink. Icarus blinks in surprise, then colors faintly. Not quite there yet, but Dionysus is pleased to see he’s relaxing a bit.

He leans back in his chair and sips his own Silenus’ Nightcap.  “So – I’ve been making the rounds on these parties for a while now… you’re a new face.  Must be a freshman?”

Icarus takes a cautious sip. His eyebrows raise, and he licks his lips absently.  “Yeah. Um.  I guess… I guess it’s obvious, huh.”

Dionysus watches a few mortals approach the patio, then turn off in different directions with vaguely confused expressions.  “You looked a little lost.”

Icarus tries more.  At the moment, he looks a little glum more than anything else.  “I wanted to get out of the dorms for a change… not just for class or work or whatever. I saw a poster in the day room… guess I should have looked into it.  The one guy I knew, from my calculus class, I guess he took off somewhere.. I dunno.”

“He a friend of yours?” Dionysus really disapproves of ditching friends at parties.  If they’ve agreed to split up and check things out separately, that’s a different story; but ditching a friend – especially such a newbie – is a real dick move.

“Nah.  Just… just a guy I knew from class.”  Icarus downs the rest of his can, which was… inadvisable. Or completely advisable, if you ask Dionysus.  That’s gonna go straight to his head.  

Icarus slumps a little in his chair.  “That’s what this was supposed to be,” he says, quietly.  “Meeting new friends.”

Dionysus leans over to clink his can against Icarus’, rescuing the mood before it turns to self-pity… that’s a hard hole to dig out of when you’re drinking.  “Well, you’re off to a good start!  One down!  Add Denis to your little black book!”

Icarus laughs a little and raises his empty can to Dionysus.  “Glad I met at least one other quiet guy here!” he says, incorrectly. He looks at his can sheepishly. “So, uh… is there any more of this?”

——————————-

After two cans, Icarus is far enough along to be talked into comparing the hotties at the party – he rates them all generously and points out the best feature of each entrant.

“How would you rate me?” Dionysus asks, dying to hear.

“Hmmmmmmmmm,” Icarus is wobbling just slightly, and puts his hand to his chin in serious consideration. “Well, you… you fill a lot of categories.  Like, you’re soooooo pretty, Denis, your face is so pretty!  And you have… really nice hair?  And your makeup is pretty good too.  And your butt – uh!  I mean!!” He waves his hands frantically, face reddening in a brief moment of clarity that he’s saying more than he normally would.

“Ohhh?” Dionysus leers mischievously.  

Icarus hides his face in one hand, waving with the other as though to dismiss the embarrassing confession. Ouranos’ balls, this kid. “F-forget that.  It’s just fine is all!  Ummm honestly I’ll give you a 9/10 just for wearing normal clothes though. It’s such a fucking relief not to be the only one here who’s not like…doing the BDSM glitter orgy look.”

A BDSM glitter orgy sounds delightful, but Dionysus has to ask: “Do you even know what BDSM is, you sweet summer child?”

Icarus only starts giggling uncontrollably and tries to distract by asking for another drink.

———————————

After the third can, Icarus is coaxed into dancing with Dionysus inside.  He’s terrible.  Icarus, that is; Dionysus is a fine dancer.  Icarus is lucky he won’t remember this tomorrow.  

Dionysus dares him to give a smooch to an attractive young man who’s been giving kisses in exchange for drinks all night.  Icarus dithers, still shy even under the influence, then finally darts over to press a beer into the guy’s hand and give him an adorably chaste kiss on the cheek before fleeing back to Dionysus, who’s laughing in the corner and cheers his return.

He’s talked into playing a drinking game with some other partiers and loses, badly – that’s the fourth can, and he’s starting to stagger.  

Dionysus finds a bottle of water and wraps an arm around Icarus, leading him back outside.  In the length of time it takes to get there, Icarus has told Dionysus that he’s scared of heights and the ocean; that he loves strawberry shortcake above all else; that he’s really ticklish on his sides; that he kind of likes guys with longhair.

Dionysus cannot overstate how pleased he is with the outcome of the evening.  He grins as he half-leads, half-carries Icarus outside.  “Heyyyy, wait a minute.  I have long hair!” he teases.

Icarus is laughing again. He’s been laughing almost nonstop for the last half hour or so.  “Well. Wellllll, I guess you do!  Long and sooooooo pretty.”

Dionysus laughs too. “Ahh, kid, if only I could take you home for the night.”

Icarus beams up at him drunkenly.  “Huh?”

“But I can’t.  Because you –“ he boops Icarus’ nose  “- are capernoited”

“Whaaaaat?  Capper-cap – that’s not even, not, not even real. A real word!”

“Is so!  You, dear boy, are capernoited.  Inebriated.  Blotto. Soused.  Tipsy.  Just a liiiiiitle bit drunk.”  Dionysus punctuates each word with a light poke to Icarus’ sides; which sends him into fits of giggles.

“Nnnnno way,” he says, laughing and throwing his arms around Dionysus again.  “Listen.  Listen. I’m not.  I’m – I never, never get drunk.”

“I can tell,” Dionysus says, amused.

“No no, I mean.  Imean.  No, I mean I really, I never.  Never get drunk.  So.  So my liver is like, it’s fresh, you know? It can handle anything.  So I’m totally not drunk yet.”

“Ahh, that’s not how it works, darling.”  Dionysus pats Icarus’ back from where the kid’s hugging him tight.  Damn, he’s like an octopus when he’s had a couple drinks in him!  

“You’ll see!  Wait till – till – the end of the party.  You’ll be the kippernitted one.”

“Well, you may be right,” Dionysus says, “I often am.”  He observes with mild curiosity as Icarus attempts to adjust his legs so that – ah, he’s climbing into Dionysus’ lap.  He obligingly helps, and smiles at the look of drunken, bold pride on the kid’s face.  “You’re quite a handful when you’re capernoited, you know that?  Just four drinks, that’s all it took to bring out this handsy little cutie.”

He does wish he could bring Icarus home.  Well, ‘home,’ where Ariadne and the rest of his retinue are, which could be anywhere.  Dionysus indulges himself briefly in a dirty little fantasy, involving himself, Ariadne and this sweet young mortal.  Between the two of them, they could probably blow this kid’s mind.

It’s tempting.  There are some mortals – probably at least a couple at this very party – who want nothing more than a fun night and a crazy half-memory of something wild, hopefully including sex.  But, capernoited antics notwithstanding,Icarus is definitely not one of them.  A drunken, wild night of sex with a total stranger (and said stranger’s wife) would traumatize him for certain.  He needs to get this drunk with someone he already knows and trusts; that would bethe best avenue for Icarus’ wild side.

So he gently detaches Icarus’ hands from where they’re latched onto Dionysus’ shirt.  “I mean it though, kiddo.  Not when you’re this drunk.  You’ll feel like shit about it tomorrow.”

“But you’re so hot,” Icarus mumbles, eyes half-closed.  Whew, he’sfurther along than Dionysus realized.

“Thank you, sweetie; so are you.  And I’ll still be hot tomorrow if you’re still interested.  We can thinkabout it then,” Dionysus says, knowing perfectly well that he’s likely to never see Icarus again.  

“How about.  How about. A smooch?  Nothing wrong with that?”  Icarus manages, smiling hopefully up at Dionysus, eyes glazed and unfocused.

Dionysus sighs indulgently.  “How can I say no to a face like that?  One smooch!”

He leans in and gives Icarus a good one, holding up his phone to take a pic to commemorate it.  He airdrops it into Icarus’ phone, something for him to be shocked and embarrassed and wonder about tomorrow.  “Now then. Before we both get too – ah.”  

Icarus is slumped against his shoulder almost immediately, dead asleep. Dionysus tsks and sends a text.

Hermes arrives seconds later.

“Ooohh, looky here!” he exclaims,circling around with impish glee.  “Wore him out?  I knew your wicked ways would rear up again on party night!”

Dionysus tut-tuts at him.  “This poor little lightweight passed out on his own.  I only got a smooch out of it.”

“Oh?  The kiss was enough to knock him out?”

“Well, with the help of Silenus’ Nightcap,” Dionysus amends, standing up and lifting the conked-out Icarus with him.  “He needed a bit of liquid courage before he could enjoy the party properly.”

“Aww.  Mentoring the nerds.  Just like back in the day with Heph.  You’re such a philanthropist.”

“When duty becomes pleasure,” Dionysussays.  “Anyway, you mind taking him back to his place?  Dunno where it is.  He got ditched here.”

“Yeah, sure,” Hermes replies, distracted.  He’s uncapped a marker that he produced from somewhere, and has placed his fingers under Icarus’ chin, tilting the kid’s face back to draw a mustache or a dick or something – and then draws back, startled.

“Oh, shit!  You definitely didn’t do more than kiss, right?”

“Right… why?”  Dionysus rolls his eyes.  “You’re telling me he belongs to someone already?  If he does, whoever it is should be more attentive.  A sweet cutie like this doesn’t deserve to be abandoned at a party!”

“Not yet.  Stand by another couple months… the Sun Gods are about to take an interest.”  Hermes carries on drawing on Icarus’ face – this time a sun and a heart.  What a sap – ah, okay, there’s the dick drawing.

Dionysus makes a face.  “Bleh. Good thing I didn’t, then.  I don’t wanna be within a hundred yards of those two seducing someone.”

He hesitates, looking down at the sleeping Icarus.  “…Hope he survives it.”

“Ah, he’ll be fine.  I think they’re different, now.”

“Guess you’d know better than me.  Anyway, if you have time after you drop him off, come on back!  This place is lit!  And I’m gonna pick up my Denis act where I left off.”

“Ooh, I don’t want to miss out on Denis!  All right, see you in aminute!”  Hermes winks, hoisting Icarus carefully in his arms, and vanishes.

Dionysus’ conservative clothes are gone, replaced by the raciest outfit he can think of off the fly – this interlude with the sweet Icarus was fun, but he’s anxious to make up for lost time on the drinking scene.

————————-

Icarus wakes up the next day, thirsty and hungover in his own bed, still wearing his clothes.  There’s a receipt on his nightstand, from ‘Mercury Cabs’ – he doesn’t recognize the signature.  On the back is a note, barely legible, something about hoping he feels better, and call me sometime!  There’s a number he can’t read, and the whole thing is signed ‘Denis.’  Denis… he has only faint memories and a few startling photos on his phone.

He gets a glass of water and transfers the photos to his computer and marvels over them – here’s Icarus dancing; here’s Icarus playing some kind of card game with a small group of equally drunk-looking people cheering his hand; here’s Icarus kissing a very handsome young man, both of them sort-of smiling at the camera around each other’s lips.

This guy – it has to be Denis –is in a few pictures.  Icarus thinks he remembers, faintly, talking to the guy outside somewhere.  Seems like they had fun.  Too bad he can’t remember.

Still, Icarus is pleased.  He went outside his comfort zone briefly, and ended up having a good time in spite of all his doubts.  Maybe he’ll even do it again sometime!

He goes to take a shower, because he reeks, and groans when he spots the sun, the heart, and the dick on his face in marker.

———————————————–

About a year and a half later, Icarus has nearly forgotten that one wild party, and nearly forgotten Denis and the smooch photo.

Imagine his surprise, then, when he meets a Greek god introducing himself as Dionysus, immediately familiar to Icarus and grinning at him with the same mouth that had been planted on Icarus’ own all that time ago.

Dionysus winks and puts a finger to his lips before exclaiming over how nice it is to finally meet the guy he’s heard so much about.


End file.
